License to Love
by Foxy'sGirl
Summary: Hiccup and Astrid's first date doesn't go exactly as planned. Modern AU. Warning: Approaches Critical Sass.


**This bit me and I had to write it. Prepare yourself for sassy Hiccup. **

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Astrid hadn't known what to say when _Hiccup_ Haddock asked her out in third period, but there was something about his jittery, hand waving charm that made her say yes. They'd talked before, of course. They've been going to the same school since pre-k, and he'd always stood out in a fringe sort of way that wasn't necessarily always positive, but she'd never thought of him in any real way.

But now, sitting in the leather front seat of his sleek black car after the best date of her life, she's seriously regretting that.

"So…you had fun, right?" Hiccup glances at her from the drivers' seat and drums his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

It's _cute_.

It's not a word that comes up very often in her vocabulary very often, but it really applies here. He's all long limbs and freckles and wide, nervous smiles. And he tried to comb his hair, but it didn't listen, insistently falling forward over his forehead in thick chunks that looked flaming red in the overhead lights of the mini golf course.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun." She almost bailed when he told her they were going mini-golfing, it just seemed so sleazy, like he'd stand behind her and teach her how to putt like adolescent pool.

But it wasn't like that at all. He prodded her competitiveness and when she completely smashed him, asked for a rematch. And it was fun playing with him, even though he yelled asked for a redo every time his putt didn't go exactly where he wanted it. She didn't mind as much as she should have, even though it was against the rules. "I'm still having fun."

"Yeah?" He grins and his hand drifts aimlessly in the air for a moment before landing back on the steering wheel and gripping until his bony knuckles turn white. "Because uh…I didn't think this would go so well, but I tentatively—there's something else we could do, if you wanted."

"There's more to the date than putt-putt?" She smiles at him and he blushes. It's cute again. Still. Whatever.

"I know a place," he shrugs and clicks on the turn signal, steering smoothly into the right lane. "I'm glad you mentioned that you're having fun now, or we would have missed the turn off."

He turns onto a small dirt road and all of her nerve endings light on fire, because suddenly this doesn't seem so fun anymore. It's a date with a guy to a secluded field where he turns out the lights and tries something. She's about to speak up and tell him to turn around when something impossibly loud passes overhead and the car windows rattle.

"What the hell was that?"

"Oh, an airplane," he glances at her, green eyes magnified by the glow of the dash. Has he always had green eyes. "Unless the aliens are landing and I haven't heard about it."

"Very funny," she leans forward against the seatbelt and rests her hands on the dash, looking up through the windshield. "How close is the airport? That plane was really low."

"It's the little municipal one, right over the hill—sorry!" He apologizes as the car thunks a little too hard over a mysterious shadow in the middle of the road. He pats the steering wheel gently and she can't tell if he's apologizing to her or the car. "Yeah, I come out here sometimes and watch the planes take off. I was thinking _we_ could watch some…planes."

"Or UFO's," she sits back and crosses her arms, smiling at him.

"Right. Do you have your camera? We should get evidence of the little green men, maybe they're friendly."

She punches his arm and he glares at her, stopping the car on top of the big hill. She can see the airport in the distance, a bright point on the horizon with a long strip of runway, almost shiny in the dark. It's too quiet without the car engine and she wrings her hands together, looking for another plane. A small voice in the back of her mind casually mentions that she wouldn't totally mind it if he tried something, even if she hasn't quite decided to do anything herself.

"So, uh…I usually watch from outside. It's better out there, I have a blanket in the back." He points into the backseat and his hand brushes across her shoulder. He blushes and she laughs at him, bumping her shoulder against his wrist.

"Sounds good."

She stands behind him as he lays out the blanket, watching him a little too carefully. He's muttering to himself and when he stands to face her, he pats the hood of his car almost fondly. She wonders what it'd feel like to have him touch _her_ like that. "How often do they take off?"

She steps past him and sits down on one side of the blanket, leaning back on her hands and crossing her ankles in front of her. He sits down next to her, a cool six inches away and her head cocks towards him, long braid tickling his arm.

"Every few minutes. Sometimes longer," he rubs the back of his neck, "sorry we missed that first one."

"It's fine," she doesn't look at him, because that might muddle things and right now it's perfectly clear that she should scoot over and rest her head on his shoulder. He stiffens and she knocks her elbow against his, trying to get comfortable. "I don't mind waiting."

"Oh," he laughs and clears his throat, and she feels it against her temple, reverberating into the base of her chest. "So you'll wait for a plane but you can't wait five seconds for me to line up my shot? Hypocritical, Astrid."

"It was putt-putt, stop making it sound so serious."

"It's very serious. I could have had the hole in one on fifteen, but _someone_ was yelling at me to get a move on—"

"You still would have lost," she cuts him off, jolting when his warm breath lights against her scalp. "You're a horrible golfer, really."

"There goes my future," he sighs heavily and her bangs flutter against her eyebrows. "Without my prospective career in professional putt-putt, I'm just another soon to be high school graduate, headed for college."

"Poor you."

"Maybe…maybe you could coach me? You seem to be quite the expert and I thought we had fun tonight," his hand slides tentatively around her shoulders and she turns her head towards him.

"I don't need a charity case, Hiccup," she whispers. Somehow she didn't expect him to be so close, inches away, all freckles and wide, anxious eyes in the moonlight.

"You're breaking my heart here, Astrid. I thought I had promise, this was my whole future—"

She leans in and kisses him, and he pulls away, looking down at her, absolutely shocked. He seems to think for a minute before leaning in himself and returning the gesture, hand coming up to cup her chin.

It's electric, and distracting, and she barely notices the low lying rumble of the plane flying overhead, rattling the hood of the car behind them. Her hand finds his shoulder and pulls him closer, fisting in the fabric of his shirt as the kiss starts to deepen, frantic and too much. More than she would have planned on if she'd planned on this at all.

The unexpected siren startles them apart and his hand slips limply from her chin when the distinctive flashing blue bar appears over the hill.

"Shit," he curses and stands up, almost absently offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Why 'shit'? We didn't do anything wrong," she says emphatically to no one in particular, almost shocked that the resonating tingles in her lips don't give her a lisp.

"Just a generic 'shit' because there are cops. And loud sirens—Hey Officer! We hear you, can you turn those off before you go deaf?" He shouts at the cop car, hand cupped to his mouth.

She nudges him in the gut and he has the audacity to look wounded. "What?"

"You can't talk to a cop like that. I'm sure if we just explain—"

"Please put your hands where I can see them," the cop orders out of the window of his car and Astrid listens immediately, holding her hands out in front of her and shouldering halfway in front of Hiccup.

"Let me drop my Uzi first—"

Astrid cuts him off by stepping on his foot. Hard. He puts his hands up.

"Officer, I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding." Astrid starts, and the siren flicks off. Finally. "We were just—"

"Were you aware that you're trespassing on private land?"

"I'm really very extra sure that we're not," Hiccup grins at the cop, who's climbing out of his vehicle along with his partner.

"This is private property owned and maintained by Haddock Enterprises." The cop reaches towards the handcuffs hanging from his belt and Hiccup lets his hands fall to his sides.

His partner joins him, inspecting Hiccup's sleek black car and the blanket on the ground in front of it. "Is this your vehicle?"

"Yes, it's my car. If you just let me get the registration, I can prove it—whoa there," as soon as he moves, cop number two steps up behind him and wrangles his wrists into handcuffs, clicking them shut. "Are the handcuffs really necessary? I was just trying to get my registration"

"Hiccup," Astrid hisses at him, eyes widening when cop number one touches his handcuffs like he's going to use them on someone.

"Hey, can we talk?" Hiccup stands up straight, wrists jangling behind his back. "Come on, I'm sure this is all a big misunderstanding, officers. Let me just show you the registration and everything will make a lot more sense—"

"Is the car unlocked?" Cop number one grabs the handle of Hiccup's car door and he flinches.

"Yeah, yeah, it's unlocked and the registration is in the glove box. And my wallet with my _valid_ drivers' license is in the cup-holder." Hiccup cranes his neck to try and peer through the tinted front window. "Cup-holder, not on the door. Did I give you too much at once, sir?"

Astrid surprises no one more than herself when she laughs, clapping one hand over her mouth to try and stifle it. Hiccup grins at her out of the corner of his mouth and slumps in exaggerated relief with a jangle of handcuff chain when the cop leans out of his car with his black leather wallet and an envelope from the glove box. He opens the envelope and flicks through it, pulling out a piece of paper and frowning.

"This isn't good, it says that this car is registered to Stewart Haddock."

The cop standing behind them whistles and grabs one of each of their shoulders, herding them towards the cop car.

"No, Stewart Haddock is my dad, check my license. Check the insurance, it has both of our names on it—"

"Really kid? You're going with _that_ excuse? I've met Stewart Haddock, and you can't be his son."

"He'd say the same thing," Hiccup laughs, balking as the cop guides Astrid's head into the back of the cop car. "Seriously, give him a call. His number is all over the property sign. Haddock Enterprises, remember?"

"This license has to be a fake," the cop pulls it out of his wallet and holds it up to the still flashing lights. "The picture is horrible, the DMV wouldn't let this through, would they?"

Astrid is forced to scoot over when the cop guides Hiccup in beside her, seemingly forgetting that his hands are cuffed behind his back.

"Thanks for summing that up," Hiccup leans back out the door, almost falling forward, and Astrid catches his shoulder to help, another startled laugh slipping out.

This isn't funny. Nothing about this situation is funny. She's in serious trouble for the first time in her life, she's never had so much as a detention or a frowny-face sticker on a fourth grade spelling test. She's never gotten a speeding ticket, and she's definitely never been on a date with a boy in handcuffs in the backseat of a cop car.

She's never talked back to an authority figure, like he is now, and she's never championed those who do. But there's something singular and brave in Hiccup's eyes that's making this less than nerve-wracking.

"We've got to take you downtown to get this fake ID sorted out," the cop shakes his head and pockets the license, shutting the car door slowly.

"It's not a fake. Call my dad—"

"We know the car is suspect, kid. I suggest you use your right to remain silent."

"Wait, wait, just a second." Hiccup peeks his head out of the mostly closed door. "Can I have a light? And a cigarette?"

Astrid tries not to laugh again when the cop blinks slowly. Hiccup leans further out of the door and her hand slips off of his shoulder, scalding against the line of his shoulder blade. "Actually, make that some gum, because I don't smoke."

"In the car, kid." The cop shuts the door and Hiccup flops back against the car seat, wincing and trying to get comfortable leaning back on his arms.

"Shit," he curses to himself, "If they just call my dad…"

"So we aren't trespassing?"

"No, this—my dad's company is planning on expanding the airport. He owns the field, and if they would just _listen_ to me…" He shakes his head, wrinkling his nose in the hazy blue light. "And now my nose itches. Great, just—oh, thanks," he chuckles, suddenly awkward again as she reaches up and scratches the tip of his nose. "I—I'm sorry. This is the last thing I wanted for a date—"

"It's ok."

"—this is actually worse than any of my worst case scenarios. I thought about a tornado or locusts but I never thought I'd get you arrested for grand theft auto—"

"Hiccup, it's ok."

"—and what we were doing before they pulled up? I didn't think that would happen either and I messed everything up—"

"Hiccup." Her hand slides over to cup his cheek and he stops too abruptly, exhaling against her wrist. She leans in and kisses him again, brief and reassuring. "I can't believe you asked the cop for a cigarette."

"I was just trying to make you laugh," he leans a little closer to her and grins. "I was thinking about running for it, but you didn't get any of my subliminal messages."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you were supposed to leap past me, snatch the keys out of my pocket and pull the car around. Get with the program, Astrid."

"It sounds like I'd be doing all the work in this escape plan, that's not really fair."

"Ah, I was going to be busy taking the cops out." He grimaces and shifts on his hands. "It would have been a great story."

"I think this is a pretty good story," she shrugs and kisses his cheek.

"Goody-two shoes Astrid Hofferson getting arrested?"

She punches his shoulder and he teeters, unbalanced. "I deserved that one."

"What are they doing out there?" She leans across his lap to look out the window. "Wait, I—I think one of them is on the phone?"

His chin rests against the back of her head as he peeks out through the window with her, and she can almost feel his smile.

"There we go, he looks terrified. Oh, he's cowering, even on the phone he's cowering…" His voice is distractingly low, fluttery against her hair and she sits up, staring him down.

"You're _obnoxious_, did you know that?"

He looks hurt, honestly hurt, and something about the vulnerability is appealing rather than off-putting and she kisses him again, just because. The door opens just as he's starting to respond and the cop that seemed so formidable a moment before is wide eyed and reverent.

"Oh. Mr. Haddock, I'm so sorry—"

"Yeah, sorry," Hiccup shrugs off the man's hand as he tries to protect his head from the door and stands, turning to present his cuffed hands. "I take it that was my _dad_ on the phone."

"We can give you a police escort home."

Hiccup makes a show of rubbing his wrists when the cuffs come off, offering Astrid a surprisingly jaunty hand and helping her out of the back of the car.

"Won't be necessary," he leans in and reads the man's badge. "Sergeant Johansen. Wallet?"

"I'm really sorry about the misunderstanding—"

"Maybe you should get off this property officer, no trespassing."

The cops seem to leave faster than they showed up, and Astrid watches Hiccup stow the blanket in the back seat before climbing into the driver's seat next to her. "So. That date got derailed."

"It was fun," her hand reaches for his between their seats. "I'm just wondering how you're going to top it next weekend. The bar is set very high now, Haddock, I expect adventure."

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End file.
